


'Til Eternity

by mylittleskeletons



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M, Post-War, SHEITH - Freeform, sheith as parents
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-15 22:26:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13622778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mylittleskeletons/pseuds/mylittleskeletons
Summary: Keith remembers it just like yesterday when his hardest decision was choosing between the lives of his teammates and another endangered society. Now, his hardest decision lies in the form of two heavy, fluorescently coloured cans of mush and deducing which is the closest equivalent to peas.





	'Til Eternity

**Author's Note:**

> Commissioned by Tamara. Thank you so much again <3

Keith remembers it just like yesterday when his hardest decision was choosing between the lives of his teammates and another endangered society—now, his hardest decision lies in the form of two heavy, fluorescently coloured cans of mush and deducing which is the closest equivalent to peas.

He squats in front of the shelves as he eyes the ingredients with a scrutinizing glare. Garbled symbols strain into a loose translation in his head, and it only leaves him a little more lost than when he started. He’s been living in the Sól System for eight months now. He’s surprised he’s picked up the language as much as he has, but he still can’t make heads or tails with the food.

He’ll never forget the day he mistook a vegetable ten times more pungent than an onion for an apple. Shiro’s unadulterated expression of betrayal is burned in Keith’s hindbrain, and it always encourages a smile. Distrust was embedded into Shiro’s steely gaze for a week; he eyed the food Keith brought home and underwent his own investigation before taking a bite. Even now when Keith brings home new produce, he can practically feel Shiro’s soul exit his body.

Keith sighs and dumps the blue and magenta cans into his basket.

“I’ll figure it out later,” he tells himself. Read: he’ll taste it and decide it’s either workable or that he just condemned his large intestine.

Keith finishes up walking around the supermarket and dumping heaven knows what into his basket. Ideally, he’d like to make a version of beef stew, but he’s terrified it’ll taste like fish and peaches. Only one way to find out.

As he waits in the short line to the register, he finds his mind poking at the radiating domesticity of it all. Even laughs a little.

Going from the intensive front lines of an age-long war to peaceful grocery shopping before nightfall is jarring. Next month will mark the seventh anniversary of the empire’s downfall. There is still a lot to do in terms of reshaping the universe and stitching the tears Zarkon left from his reign: intergalactic diplomacy, rebuilding and transportation, and planet revitalization are just to name a few. The list is extensive as it is overwhelming. Keith still remembers the fifteen hour days he pulled, sitting in meetings and leading endless supply runs. He and Shiro managed six years of that mess before they managed to clock their leave early, but not by choice.

Still, Keith can’t complain because a lot of their stress melted off their shoulders. Shiro can actually sleep for longer than three hours at a time. But that doesn’t mean that Keith is guilt free. Most days, he wishes he was out there helping more even though now it’s nearly impossible. But it’s nice here, he likes this place.

The only downside is the therapy sessions Coran insisted they take.

_“You two have been through a lot. Best to talk them out before you go mad like chüpers.”_

A necessary evil, but still a hefty amount of stress. Keith agreed for Shiro’s sake only because he was afraid Shiro would turn it down. They’ve been attending since they’ve settled, and a good chunk of progress has been made. They’ve done so well in fact that Keith started to believe that Shiro had lost his damn mind.

_“Our therapist said some responsibility would be good for us.”_

_“Yeah, as in a part-time job or a pet. Not a kid. Christ, we’re not even married.”_

_“Then let’s get married.”_

The resolution in Shiro’s deliverance of the suggestion and the unfaltering assurance in his set gaze had Keith’s throat closing up. Keith had never really been one for the hype of holy matrimony—never thought he’d ever have the opportunity to want it—but then it had stared him in the eye with the same serious devotion needed to lead an army into enemy lines. Years of mind-numbing war and the growth that comes with it still wasn’t enough to calm the rapid assault of his beating heart. But Shiro took hold of his hand, and he was done for.

Now, Keith doesn’t mind that his devotion to Shiro is eternalized on paper. His eyes drift down, and he inspects the silver band hugging his finger. It’s only been a few months in, and Keith is still mesmerized by the thin piece of metal. He supposes that’s just a part of sentimentality.

He’s gone soft.

“Can I help who’s next?”

The shrill voice jolts Keith from his bone-melting reverie, and he fights down the embarrassment that tries to bloom in his cheeks. He sets his basket on the conveyor belt with a little more force than necessary and clears his throat before unloading the produce.

“Right. Sorry,” he mumbles.

Keith pays for his groceries and leaves with a downturned gaze and burning ears. He steps out just in time to see the second sun begin its descent, enveloping the sky in a burnt orange that Keith has only ever seen in paint catalogues. Shiro had been wary of the binary star system at first, but he hopped on the train when Keith told him there was a planet with three suns and no concept of ‘night’.

It took some time to get used to the new routine after only having artificial light for so long, but maybe that explains why Keith always looks forward to every sunrise catching the sharp contours of Shiro’s face each morning.

Keith takes the long way home.

_Home._

A word he never thought he’d live long enough to experience for himself. Now, it fills his chest with a sense of completion and warmth. His soul and mind are fractured, but he feels whole.

The trip to his quaint, two-story house is short, even with his detour. He takes the steps two at a time, a paper bag in each arm and his keys held between his teeth as he skillfully opens the door with an agile knee. Once inside, he drops his keys in the enameled dish and toes off his shoes. He’s seconds away from loudly announcing his return, but a soft humming silences him. At first he thinks it’s just a mind trick, but it’s a constant white noise tickling the air. He strains his ears to hear and sets the bags down beside the shoe rack.

Venturing further into the house, the humming mutates into gentle singing the closer Keith gets to the kitchen. Light bleeds through the doorway, beckoning Keith closer with the aid of a sweet tune and melodic laughter. Keith plants a hand on the doorframe and peers into the room. Simultaneously, he feels his heart turn to putty.

“ _I’ll make you happy, baby. Just wait and see_ ,” floats through the air, the voice rich and soft. The words slip past a toothy grin that warms the room. Strong arms that once threatened to crush windpipes now cradle a baby with the gentleness of a summer breeze. The baby held within the hold wears a smile so wide that Keith thinks her face might break in two.

“ _For every kiss you give me_ —” Shiro kisses the tip of her button nose. She erupts into boisterous giggles. “— _I’ll give you three_. Take it away.”

Keith watches the baby gurgle, knit her brows together, and effectively blow a spit bubble that startles her when it pops. She hiccups, and her big emerald eyes peer up at Shiro expectantly. Shiro shrugs with a chuckle sweeter than molasses.

“Close enough.” Shiro clears his throat. “ _Oh, since the day I saw you_ —”

Shiro spins, and only then does he finally catch sight of Keith standing by the doorway. Keith raises his eyebrows when the man freezes and adopts the expression of a spooked deer. He swallows thickly, and Keith gestures at him.

“Don’t let me interrupt. Go on,” Keith says. Shiro stares for a second longer before he chuffs a nervous laugh. He shifts the baby in his arms so he can rub the back of his flushed neck.

“How, uh…how much of that did you hear?” Shiro asks as a chubby hand creeps closer to his face. It smacks him right on the mouth, and he doesn’t break eye contact with Keith as he blows a raspberry into the pudgy, clawed fingers.

“I barely missed what I’m sure was a very dignifying ‘whoa-oh-oh.’”

Shiro sags in visible relief. “Thank god.” His head remains bowed as if in prayer to whatever deity that saved the last of his grandeur. Then, he looks up and pulls the girl’s head to his chest. He covers a poined ear with his hand. “You’ll always be my first baby, though.”

Keith snorts, and Shiro grins. “Please. I’m the one who babysits you.” Shiro laughs, loud and effortless, and Keith gravitates toward the sound. “That song is more than a century before your time.”

“Classics are timeless, Keith,” Shiro tsks. His gaze is fond as Keith steps closer.

“That so?” Keith asks. He stops just short of his chest touching Shiro’s forearm. He casts a shadow over the girl, and she peers up at him over her shoulder. Her face lights up in pure glee, and Keith mirrors her excitement with a kind smile. He reaches a finger out to her, and she latches on with a surprisingly strong grip.

“How did errands go?”

“Great. I’m making surprise stew for dinner.”

“ _God_ ,” Shiro groans. “My stomach is already crying in anguish.”

Keith raises an eyebrow. “Would you rather me hire Coran as our personal chef?” Shiro blanches. “Didn’t think so.”

“Rude,” Shiro grumbles.

Keith ignores him and leans down to plant an obnoxiously loud kiss on the girl’s forehead.

It’s strange to him how months ago, he was completely appalled by the idea of have a child. Most of the time he barely knew how to care for himself. How on earth was he supposed to care for a kid? Then Shiro gently reminded him that he babied the ever-living hell of out Shiro and that he would do just fine.

When he first held her, he felt terribly powerful. The kind of power no one person should ever have. She was small—is still too small—and vulnerable in his arms. But she looked at him like he was her whole world, and he made a promise to himself that he would make it the best damn world he was capable of creating.

It wasn’t easy. There were times when they felt inferior and that their parenting skills were subpar, but caring for someone is never easy. What matters is that they never stopped trying.

There were good times too. Like when they realized their bouncing bundle of joy was of a shapeshifting species. That legendary game of peek-a-boo rightfully scared the piss out of Shiro when he uncovered his face and saw only a pile of blankets. He had looked at Keith with the most terrified expression and said, point blank, “I lost the baby.”

Keith had laughed until tears sprung from his eyes when Shiro jumped away from a giggling blanket. He curses his stars that they never caught it on tape. It would have gone down in history for sure. For now, it’s a great conversation starter—one of Keith’s favorites, in fact.

His smile widens at the memory, and he catches sight of Shiro’s questioning glance. He isn’t sure what to say, but thankfully he doesn’t have to. Another spit bubble followed by a hiccup interrupts, and he laughs.

Terribly, terribly soft he’s become.

“Hey,” Shiro says quietly, and Keith looks up.

“Hm?”

“Could I have the honour of a duet with you?”

They’re swaying side-to-side to the beat of an old song far, far away from them. The air in the kitchen is warm and the love even warmer. He feels at peace, and he hopes Shiro can feel it emanating from him. For the first time in his life, he thinks he made the right choice of not running away.

Keith reaches up and laces their fingers together, his ring glistening in the light.

“ _Whoa-oh-oh-oh_.”


End file.
